


Drabbles

by Sgladiate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sgladiate/pseuds/Sgladiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots written mostly when I should be doing something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just her luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Felicity gets trapped in a bathroom 30,000 feet above ground and Oliver has to get her out.

_Typical_ , out of all the times the plane had to hit a wave of particularly bad turbulence, she had to be on board and out of her seat.  _That’s what you get for drinking two martinis and three cups of coffee._

She had no desire to fly all the way to Japan, to be honest she had no desire to fly anywhere - she  _loathed_  flying, but Oliver insisted. ‘Felicity, you’re my  _EA_ , it would raise a few eyebrows if you didn’t show’. The plan was to meet a few investors who have been interested in some recent developments by Unidac Industries, a subsidiary of Queen Consolidated. Slowly, as if speaking to a child she told him for the hundredth time since being ‘promoted’ that she was more than happy to go back to her old job but his pleading puppy eyes and the promise of a vintage wine bottle from Queen Manor’s wine cellar itself, silenced her protests. A decision, she now truly regretted. After excusing herself from the company of several very boring members of the team with whom she was forced to sit with, after getting a  _look_ from Isabel Rochev, which meant  _EAs don’t sit next CEOs,_ a seat which the Russian soon after occupied, she headed towards the bathroom. Upon entering, she stifled a gasp; it was bigger than the one she had at home, not that she should be surprised. The elegant interior even held a  _flower pot_.

Her hands were covered in a layer of soap with a woody scent of Moroccan Amber, _Yes, she read the bottle label,_ when the jet’s floor began shaking under her feet.  _God damn it._

Before she could start visualising all the possible deaths that awaited her, the plane suddenly started plunging down. Unable to keep her momentum or break her fall with the still soapy hands, her head collided with the metal corner of the nearby shower. Sprawled on the floor, she wondered if anyone would remember to feed her fish if she died. She closed her eyes, silently counting seconds to distract her mind from conjuring up morbid images of dental records and black boxes.  By the time she reached number thirty two, the turbulence appeared to be easing off; Felicity made a mental note to never under any circumstance get on a plane again, if she came out of this alive.

‘Felicity!’ came a muffled shout from behind the door.  _Oliver_.

As she tried to find the words to tell him how glad she was to hear his voice, she was interrupted by loud pounding on the door.

‘Felicity!’ his voice sounded even more panicked. Apparently, she must have taken too long trying to form the right sentence.

‘Yeah, I’m alright’ she finally answered.

Shifting her hand to help her stand up, she propelled herself upwards only to soon return back to the original position. Black spots appeared in her line of vision, making her dizzy. ‘Perfect’ she muttered annoyed.

‘What’s happening?’

‘I think I may have a little problem getting out’

Too far to reach the lock, it looked like she would be spending some time here.Yet, before she could despair any further, the door swung open.  _He broke down the door for me._  The thought left her for some reason weirdly happy or maybe it was just seeing his face again.

‘Felicity, are you okay?!’

He was by her side before she could answer.

‘You’re bleeding’, he stated as his hands brushed her temple.

‘I told you I hated planes’

Now it was his turn not to answer, instead he scooped her up bridal style and carried her to the nearest seat, where he got to examine the wound more closely.

‘Luckily, it’s not deep.’

Despite his diagnosis, he remained seated in the seat next to her; whether it was for his own comfort or to make sure her near-death experience didn’t cause any more problems, she didn’t know. She rested her head on his shoulder, and seeing he made no movement to shake it off, she snuggled closed, discreetly inhaling his aftershave.  _Maybe after all, flights weren't that bad._


	2. I believed in you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Roy grabbed Felicity in his fit of rage, instead of Diggle? My take on episode 2x18.

“You better get the hell out of my way.” a warning fell from Roy’s mouth

“Just  _calm_ down, Roy.” Sara said trying to soothe the ragged edges of the whole situation.

“It’s what Thea would want us to do” she continued. The slump of shoulders of the deviant, told Felicity everything would be okay. It’d be for the best for everyone, if the agitation he felt was contained by the Foundry and not by the streets of Starling City. Intending to guide him back to the small couch they got recently, Felicity’s hand travelled to his back. Moment later, her face was being slammed into the cold metal table top, taking her breath away. Her hands were clasped behind her and his weight bared her down. Roy completely lost it.

She could hear them as if she was in a glass aquarium, head dipped underwater. What must have been seconds, to her felt like an entire lifetime, before she could begin to differentiate between the trail of words coming from the two in the lair.

An arrow swooshed above them, colliding with the wall, just above Felicity’s head.

‘Next one goes in your chest’, Sara’s voice informed.

The grip on her arms failed to lessen. And out went her chance to wear that sleeveless dress to next week’s party. She hardly thought thirty shades of green that would surely adorn her arms soon enough, would be of any match to the red hue of her planned attire. She tried to struggle, yet the young man probably didn’t even realise. His eyes were piercing Sara’s.

‘You’d honestly kill me because I dared to criticise the almighty Oliver Queen?”

As he spat out his name, the hand around her arm tightened. Maybe it wasn’t Oliver’s wisest move to take away the only person who kept Roy in line, especially when Slade was still in the picture.

‘No, I’d kill you because you’re hurting my friend.’

‘Let. Her. Go.’ a voice growled from the bottom of the stairs, words spoken so sharply, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were to cut through steel.

The hands of the teen disappeared. Still bewildered by what just happened, she slowly turned around. Roy was on the floor, blood pouring from his nose and it didn’t seem that the man responsible for it was to leave it at that.

“Oliver,  _stop”,_

Sara’s footsteps broke the silence that followed her request.

“She’s right, Ollie”

 _“Let him go”,_ Felicity whispered. Despite what just occurred, she felt sorry for the kid.

Roy got up, wiping his bloodied nose. He shot one last glance at the Foundry and left, only the slam of the door still ringing in her ears indicating that he was ever there.

He was by her side in an instant. Brows clenched together and expression grim, he searched her face for any indication of pain.  She sent him a half smile. His eyes dropped to her arms.

“Your arms ”, he stated simply  but anger still audible.

The computer beeped, interrupting them. She sent him one last reassuring look before turning to her flashing computer screen.


	3. The breath on my face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver shares a dance with a drunken Felicity

"One more” Sara said ordering several shots.

“I think I’ve probably had enough,” responded Felicity

“Nah, come on, it’s Ollie’s birthday”

“He’s not even here.”

“But he’ll be back in a second, so one more?”

“Fine but if I have a hangover from hell tomorrow I’m blaming  _you_.” Felicity said pointing her finger at her friend.

Sara smirked “No problem, I’ll even provide you with a Bloody Mary, my making  ”

Felicity scrunched her nose. “Ugh forget it, I can stand them.”

“Virgin Mary?” quizzed Sara.  Felicity shook her head.

“That bad?”

“My roommate once made everyone tomato soup. Let’s say she wasn’t the  _finest_  of cooks and from that time I can’t stand anything tomato related,” she said, shuddering at the memory.

Sara laughed, “don’t worry, I’ll think of something else.”

The blonde pushed two shot glasses to Felicity and two to herself.

“Cheers!” they echoed.  Both downed the burning liquor in one go, then reached out for their second.

*

* * *

Two blondes could be seen by the bar, one giggly and the other one very much amused.

“Let’s go to the dance floor,” Felicity proposed.

“You sure? You don’t look too steady.”

“Certain.” she replied, pulling Sara’s hand.

“Whatever you say captain!”

“Woohoo! That’s the spirit.” gleamed Felicity.

Sara’s eyes twinkled, drunk Felicity was hilarious.

*.

* * *

A young man approached them looking at Felicity.

“Would you like to dance beautiful?” he shouted over the music.

The E/A by day and hacker by night looked apologetically at Sara wondering if she should leave her alone.

“Don’t mind me! I’ll be back at the bar.”

With that, the man took her hand and led them further into the crowd.

The song playing was one of the faster tracks but they had no trouble keeping up; he was a good dancer, definitely skilled with his footwork. They danced for two songs straight and she was surprised that her high stilettos weren’t killing her feet.

He dipped her back and she laughed.

The only complaint she had was that he was awfully touchy-feely. When he pulled her up again, his hands somehow managed to travel somewhat below her waist. She knew she was tipsy the least but that didn’t stop her from feeling mildly uncomfortable.

She pulled his hands into hers, leading them into an outside turn. She span to the left enjoying the cool air brush her face and her hair whip through the air. That was until she collided with something.  _Hard_. Next thing she knew she was tripping forward, the collision taking away all her sense of balance. Yet, she didn’t fall. Strong hands enveloped around her waist pulling her up again.

She was standing face to face with Oliver Queen.

“I think I’ll have the rest of this dance,” he said to her partner, his tone suggesting it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Okay?” he asked turning back to her, checking if she was alright.

“What you’re doing here? I was dancing.”

“I could see that.” She lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“So you just decided to come here and interrupt.”

“He didn’t seem like a good partner”

She raised her brows. “And why would that be?”

“I don’t know. Might have been something to do with how he kept on decreasing the distance between the two of you. He was literally breathing down your face, Felicity!”. His voice was gruff.

Felicity didn’t know how to feel about Oliver watching her dance.

“Maybe I didn’t mind” she lied.

“Really? I thought you tried subtlly getting out of there.”

“You appear to know exactly what I was doing tonight.” She wrinkled her forehead in thought, then giggled. “Which is kind of funny because you’re-”, she moved her face closer to his and whispered “the  _Arrow_  and you’re repertoire usually consists of watching criminals and the last time I checked I wasn’t one, but now that I think of it I did hack into some databases which probably wasn’t strictly legal-”

“I was just checking how my friend was doing,” he answered and twirled her around.

When came to face him again she ended up completely falling on his chest. He tightened her grip on her to keep her upright the smell of her strawberry shampoo hit his nostrils.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy Birthday.” she said

“Thanks.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm?”

“Now it’s your breath that’s on my face.”


	4. Lifeless eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after 2x20. The immediate ramifications of Moira's death.

Grief, heart-ache and mind occupying emptiness.

 

As the crimson blood pooled out his dying mother’s body, all he could do was watch.The nylon ropes held him when all he wanted to do was get up and protect the two women. When Slade pointed the sword at his mother, he pulled the constraints with all his might yet they did not budge. When the sword was lifted up into the starless sky, the skin on his wrists was rubbed raw. When it plunged down, blood seeped down his hands.

 

And then there was that scream.

 

Not his mother’s.

 

When the pointed edge of the sword pierced her torso, she only let out a silent gasp before her body was falling. It was over before it started. It was Thea who let out the agonizing scream as she saw the lifeless body hit the tarmac.

 

The shrill scream that he was sure would ring in his ears to the day he would die.

 

It rang when the police arrived, it rang when he took his sister home, it rang when he found himself at Verdant.

 

It was three in the morning. An hour earlier Thea fell into a restless slumber. He on the other hand could not bear to spend a minute longer in the mansion than what he had to. Everywhere he looked, he saw _her_.

 

Moira trying not to laugh when Tommy and he ate all the cookies, Moira telling him he would never be without her, Moira kissing him goodnight when he was seven. His mother was embedded deeply into every tiny space and shiny surface, bringing out memories good and bad alike.

 

It felt like he was suffocating.

 

So when he entered the Foundry, he hardly expected Felicity’s petite frame growing out in front of him. She hugged him tight and they didn’t let each other go for quite some time.  No words were spoken, she just gave him that look that told him how sorry she was, mixed with something else. It wasn’t pity. More like reminiscence of the earlier shock combined with worry for his sanity

 

Somehow in the midst of all the hugging, their mouths collided.

 

The first two seconds of the kiss were hesitant and unsure. She tasted like peppermint and she was warm and she was everything that wasn’t wrong and twisted.  

 

The third second, she parted her mouth and their tongues met in a heated frenzy, dancing against each other until they were both gasping for air.

 

His hand reached for the buttons of her blouse while their lips continued to explore each other. She tugged his shirt, he unzipped her skirt. Felicity pulled his belt buckle, he kissed her skin. He pressed her against the wall and she moaned against his neck.

 

It wasn’t tender and it definitely wasn’t sweet. Breaths came quick and sharp as he slammed into her. Her nails scraped his back leaving long jagged lines that he’d only notice in the morning.

 

They both fell asleep, their bodies intertwined on one of the sparring mats.

 

When he woke up few hours later, he was alone, only his scratched back serving as a reminder that it wasn’t a dream.

  
  


The ringing in his ears wasn’t quite as loud.

 

* * *

 

 

In his mind Moira’s name was tainted with Slade’s and it forced him to keep going instead of putting the vigilante outfit in the glass case for good. He wanted Slade dead both so he couldn’t carry out the threat of killing another and so he’d pay for his mother’s death.

 

Diggle was by his side, a brother and a friend.

 

So was Felicity.

 

They hadn’t talked about that night. She acted as if nothing had happened and he went along with it. He’d think about what it meant later.

  
First he had to get Slade. 


	5. Dark chocolate cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets a tattoo.

Dark chocolate cake with raisins.

He knew as she asked him if he wanted any. Shaking his head,  he furrowed his eyebrows.

When she came back from her lunch carrying a box with ‘Wendy’s bakery’ printed on the gaudy lid, he sent her a curious glance. Felicity always went there when she was having a bad day and needed some comfort a cake never failed to provide.

But it was only… He glanced at his watch.  _12.37_.

What happened between eight this morning and now? When she told him his schedule for the day, she looked seemingly happy.

“Felicity, anything interesting happen while I was at the board meeting?” He didn’t want to enter the deep waters right away. Better to get to do it slowly, otherwise she’d just dismiss his concerns.

She swivelled her chair to face him.

“Nope.” she said popping the ‘p’. “Unless you find Mark from accounting and his story about his last weekend’s fishing trip interesting. In which case I can tell you all about the big 40 pound carp he snagged -”

“Nah, I’m good” he gave her a wry smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try some?”  she asked taking a bite of the cake.”It’s really good” she mumbled, mouth full.

It did look good. It smelled like the cakes Raisa made.

Going up to Felicity, he took the fork which currently lay limply inside her hand and took a mouthful.

When he turned to look at her, she had her brow raised.

“And?”

“You’re weren’t lying Miss Smoak. It’s delicious.”

He went to grab another bite.

Felicity laughed and moved it out of his reach.

“And what will I get if I decide to share this delicious as you called it cake?”

He took a second to contemplate his options. “A solemn promise that I’ll stop touching your computers?”

“Even when you just want to look up some game score?”

He scowled but nodded.

“Good answer. Now you can bombard your taste buds with the food of the gods ”, she said pushing it his way.

* * *

 

Later at the foundry, he narrowed his eyes as he saw her sit up a bit straighter with a hiss leaving her mouth.

“Felicity?”

She turned around, a sweet smile plastered to her face.

“Yes,  _Oliver?_ ” He placed the coffee he brought her on the metal desk top. She took hold of it, her expression mirthful.

He tightened his mouth. This wouldn’t be easy. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”. Anybody who didn’t know her would have deemed the words as truthful. But not him. Her whole body language screamed that she was trying to hide something.

He gave her a hard stare.

She nibbled her lip, drawing his attention to them. They were bright pink and it took far more effort that it should before he was able to lift his gaze back to her eyes.

“I’m asking because you’ve been acting rather odd. Did som-”

“Felicity! How did it go?” Sara’s voice interrupted him mid word.

“How did what go?” he asked.

Sara halted by the staircase, looking somewhat startled. “Ah Ollie. Didn’t see you there.”

“I thought not.” When everybody continued to remain silent, he threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“Will someone finally tell me whats going on?”

Sara turned her head, faking ignorance  “I think I left my phone upstairs.” Sara supplied the first excuse that came to mind when she saw the I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about-face wasn’t working.

He didn’t miss the smirk she sent Felicity as she retreated back the way she just came.

_“Felicity.”_

“Ugh, you’ll never give up if I don’t tell you, will you?” she muttered.

“ ‘fraid not.”

Felicity sighed. “I got a tattoo.” she said looking up at him from her seat.

His eyes must have popped as a small smile tugged her lips at his reaction.

“What?” he managed to say.

“You know when they put permanent ink on your skin.”

“I know what a tattoo is,” he said not quite believing what he just heard.

“Well you did look confused, still do actually.”

“Because you just said you got a tattoo. I- I just didn’t think it’d be something you’d be interested in doing.”

“Why not? I’ve had one done before.”

He sent her a disbelieving look “You did?”

“Oliver, they’re a plenty of things you don’t know about me.” Clearly. She never failed to take him by surprise. “So you went to a tattooist during your lunch break?”

“I spend my days in QC and my evenings with you, I mean-” she gestured the area around herself “There’s hardly any other time I could do it.”

“And the cake?”

“What about it?”

“You order some every time you’re upset.”

Now she was the one who was taken back. Who would have thought Oliver Queen would notice how her eating habits were related to her moods?”

“It stung a bit, and I thought I’d cheer myself up.”

“Can I see them?”

She blushed.

“Unless you got them done somewhere where you don’t want me to look.”

“Erm-” She took a breath “The one I got today is on my hip bone.”

He swallowed trying to imagine Felicity with a tattoo there.

She slowly began pulling the right side of her skirt down but abruptly stopped.

“You better not laugh.”

“Scout’s honour.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Felicity, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” he recited her earlier words, playfulness emanating from his features.

She looked at him skeptically and nudged the cloth down. He kneeled in front of her to see it.

It was an  _arrow_.

Black and simple, yet overridden with meaning.

He placed his calloused finger on her bare skin and traced the arrow’s outline, thoughts lingering on the fact that  _this_  place was part of her life.  _They_ were now a part of her life. Unknowingly to him, Felicity had a hard time keeping still at the touch.

“I like it.” he said after a moment, looking up straight into her eyes.

Someone cleared their throat causing both of them to jump back.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” asked Sara

Felicity look flustered. “Of course not! I was just showing him that tattoo.”


	6. The growling machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets on Oliver's motorcycle.

 

He passed her his helmet. It had a coal black surface that took on the job of reflecting the street lights, with soft cushioning on the inside.

Now, how was she to get it on? The opening where her head was to go through was tiny. She presumed her head was smaller than Oliver's, so how the hell did  _he_  manage it?

Deciding to give it a go nevertheless, she placed the helmet on her head with the intention of pulling it down to its rightful place.

Only the thing was  _not_  budging.

"Felicity?"

"Hmm?" She was now forcefully trying to get it down but she only ended up pulling her hair.

"You're holding it wrong."

He readjusted her hands. “Thanks”.

She pulled it down with more ease but it still felt like putting on her turtle neck sweater that shrank in the wash.

She had no words. It was a freaking tardis in disguise. First she couldn't get it on and now it was swinging from side to side, being obviously too large for her. Which it wasn't four minutes ago. And it smelled like Oliver.

“I’m just going to call Diggle.”

“Mmm.”

 _Straps._  As she clipped them together, she realised they were now hanging loosely below her chin.

She let out a frustrated groan.

Some readjusting was definitely needed, which failed to look like an easy or enjoyable task considering the helmet she was wearing, restrained her head movements considerably.

She grabbed the tabs and tried shifting them to shorten the straps to a comfortable length. Two minutes later she was still trying.

“Let me give you a hand.” said Oliver walking up to her.

“Rub that grin off your face Oliver Queen.” she said holding the straps up to him, not happy that he found her struggle amusing.

“What grin?” he asked innocently. She gave him a glare that she become quite proud of; it took weeks to master, but in the end it was worth it. It worked wonders on keeping college boys in check and later annoying guys in the IT department. But apparently the vigilante was immune to the effect it was supposed to evoke.

He  _chuckled._

Trying to recover from a wounded pride at his dismissal of  _the_ glare, she noticed how close he was standing. She could smell his..  _cologne_? Since when did he use cologne?

He took hold of the tabs and manouvered them around. “Hold up your chin,” he instructed.

Now she was staring straight at his face **,** not that she was complaining.A wrinkle appeared between his brows as he narrowed his eyes to see what he was doing. He was quite beautiful to look at.

She wondered what he think if he found out that she called him beautiful. Even if she just did so in her thoughts, she doubted he would be pleased. From experience she realised men cringed when someone called them that. It was either handsome or nothing at all.

“Done.”

The straps were tightly plastered to head, keeping the helmet in place.

 _Finally_.

She gave him a half grateful smile. She still didn’t like the whole idea of riding on his motorbike.

“I still don’t understand why we have to do this.” She tilted her head so it pointed at the source of her growing discomfort.

“Because I can’t very well leave you in the middle of Glades”

“Diggle will pick me up”

“He’s nowhere nearby”

“I can wait”

“Felicity-”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“Fe-li-ci-ty, it’s going to be fine.” She somehow doubted that.

“Now hop on “ He said, having already climbed on the imposing machine with relative ease, which she knew she’d never be able to copy.

The engine growled as she eyed it with suspicion.

“We’re not going to crash” he said, reading her mind.

“How can you be so sure? I remember reading bikes account for only about one per cent of traffic and yet come to form over a fifth of all fatalities.” She shoved the statistic in his face in the hope that he’d take some pity on her and not make her ride on that  _thing_.

“You’re with me”

“So? If someone hits us, that’s not going to make any difference” she carried on stubbornly.

“I’m a good rider, nobody will hit us.”

“Oliver..” she whined.

He gave her an encouraging look and she sighed in defeat. She neared his beloved Ducati Diavel as if it were a roaring tiger.

“Take my hand and step onto that footpeg.”

She did as he said. Holding onto him, she brought her right hip up and swung it over the motorcycle.

“Great. Now you’ll need to hold on to me tight.”

She smirked. She imagined him saying that under different circumstances.

He let out a cough.

Did she just say that  _out loud_? From the look he just thrown her she gathered that she indeed just did.

“I meant very platonic circumstances.”

Embarrassed, she placed her hands around his waist.  “Tighter, or you’ll fall off”

“Fall off?” she shrieked. “I thought you said this was safe?”

“It is, you just need to make sure you’re holding on properly.”

Red faced, she shuffled closer so there was no space between them. Snuggling to Oliver Queen definitely wasn’t on her agenda when she woke up this morning, but she was about to protest at the turn of events, well not t _his_  part anyway.

As she cast one last look at the steady ground, he pushed the gas pedal, and they took off, leaving a cloud of dirt in their wake.

She felt nauseous as Oliver dodged the cars at a speed she’d never voluntarily take. Her mother would kill her if she found out. But then again, she did get shot at and this definitely was lower down the scale of the things she’d disapprove.

He accelerated and she questioned her common sense for ever agreeing to getting on a motorcycle.

Oliver took a sharp turn. Closing her eyes, she squeezed her thighs against his wondering if now was the time she was going to fall off.

After a moment when she realised the smell of his cologne was still tingling her nostrils, she dared to open her eyes. Black leather continued to obscure her line of vision.

She let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

 

 

 

* * *

Twenty minutes lates, her tense muscles began to relax and the feeling that she was going to vomit, subside. Now she could fully appreciate the defined muscles she could feel through his jacket; being seated behind Oliver had more perks than she’d imagined.

She bit down a smile that threatened to make an appearance.

She didn’t manage for too long.

Her hair bellowed in the wind and she felt power surging through her veins. Everything around her was a blur. She just knew wind and the man whose waist she was gripping.

She now was smiling from ear to ear.

“Yupiieeeeeeee!” she screamed as he increased the speed. She tightened her grip.

Oliver laughed. “I thought you hated motorbikes.”

“Oh I did, but that was before I realised how exhilarating this was. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

* * *

 

“The thrill, the adrenaline. I can see why you’d like it.” Oliver smiled, happy that he managed to convince his IT girl that motorbikes weren’t as bad as she came to believe.

He watched as she pursed her lips in thought.

“What would you say if I got my own?”

“Your own what?” he asked.

“Motorcycle.”

He choked on the coffee he was drinking, and she stifled a laugh.

“What do you think about -” She glanced down at her tablet “-Harley-Davidson Sportster XL883L?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original photo from canadagraphs - I’ve removed the caption which said that *hides head in the sand*


	7. Murky depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity is tailed by men sent by a Russian oligarch.

She wonders how much the dry cleaners will love her once she presents them with with a heap of clothing penetrated with a distinct stench of river water. Probably a lot, considering they will charge her a fortune for the favor of removing the said smell.

They were in Moscow when it happened. The cover for their presence in the city was as always Queen Consolidated related; a meeting with investors which couldn’t be complete without the presence of the CEO’s EA and bodyguard.  In truth, they were after an oligarch who had connections with the Starling City’s biggest drug group. Finding him wasn’t easy; the money was broken into small deposits and dispersed onto several bank accounts from where it continued to be fragmented by wire-bank transfers between different accounts. Pretty much impossible to trace , but she was good. Once the connection between Arkady Belenestov and the drug ring was established, they flew to Europe the same day.

Both Oliver and Belenestov owned enough money to bathe in the same social circles, hence an invitation to a gala for Mr. Queen, that the other man was also to attend according to the guest list she had a tiny peek into.The plan was simple; Oliver keeps an eye on Belenestov, distracts if necessary whilst Diggle and her pay the oligarch’s house a visit and gather any evidence connecting him to the money laundering. She couldn’t get access unless directly there.  In all likelihood, any documents she didn’t find online were stored on a hard drive not connected to the internet. If that failed, option two was to be executed which would involve the viglianti putting the fear of god into the Russian.

The security although easy enough to hack still managed to cause a problem they had not been able to foresee. She had disabled all the security footage and put security monitors on an endless loop. What she hadn’t noticed was that one camera was angled slightly towards a small clock.

A night-shift guard noticed that that nine o’clock was stretching for longer than usual keeping him from his cup of tea, and had it checked out. Oliver soon spoke over the comm, informing his counterparts that Arkady just received a call and did not look happy. He went out to follow the brooding man and told Diggle and her to stay put.

Thinking they still had plenty of time regardless if somehow they got discovered, she continued to override the encryptions that were stopping her from gaining full access. She was almost done, when the comm in her ear screeched, making her jump back.

“You need to get out.” said Oliver

“What?” she shrieked.

“How much time, Oliver?” asked Diggle.

“He just ordered a dispatch.”

“Okay.” Diggle agreed “Felicity?”

“I haven’t finished!  I need another three, four minutes.”

“Now!” shouted Oliver

“Make it three,” said Diggle seeing the stubborn expression on her face.

“No. Felicity leave it and get out.” Oliver ordered.

“Three minutes Oliver.” She heard something on the other line that closely resembled a growl

Pushing her glasses up her nose, she began typing the last algorithm. A minute later she was done. She quickly swiped the computer for any data and proceeded to download it onto her disk drive.

“Felicity?”

“Hold on Oliver.”

Diggle sighed, “This download is going to take at least another five minutes judging by the amount of stuff there. Felicity get the car and drive back to the hotel. I’ll stay here and wait for it to complete.”

“Are you insane John? I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m military trained. Those guys have no chance with me.” He said, his lip twitching into a smile that was gone a second later, and replaced by worry. “You on the other hand are not, so get out of here.”

She couldn’t agree. “I don-”

“Felicity, he’ll be fine. I’m almost there and I’ll get him. Go. Please.” Oliver said.

She closed her eyes in defeat. “But if I don’t see both of you in that hotel room in fifteen minutes, you’ll be sorry.”

The threat made both boys smile.

________________________________________________

She was sure she gained at least several grey hair simply in the past two minutes alone. Listening to the Oliver and Diggle fight Belenestov’s men  through the ear device was nerve wracking; she never knew who it was that was grunting in pain, whether the blows Dig and Oliver threw would incapacitate the attackers or just make them retaliate harder. She was so busy trying to decipher what was happening, that there was no surprise when she didn’t notice a black Sedan trailing her.

Not straight away anyway.

She was driving through a mostly empty road near a river bank, when gunshots rang out. She screamed.

_Oh my god, oh my god._

Both her friends frantically shouted her name.

“I think they’re following me.  _And_  trying to kill me.”

She pressed her foot down on the gas pedal. “Obviously, you did just hear a gunshot.”

Trying to lose them, she abandoned the road, and swiveled the car in the direction of the docks.

“Felicity where are you?” Diggle asked over the comm. “The docks.” she said, her voice calmer than what she thought she’d be able to manage.

She drove fast, omitting all the trucks that were left alone for the night. Glancing to her wing mirror, she saw the space behind her was empty. She sighed in relief.

“Felicity!”

She realised Oliver has been calling her name for some time.

“I’m fine. I think I’ve lost them.”

She heard him let out a breath.

“Okay, I’m coming.”

She decided it’d be best if she deserted the car as on foot she had more chance of finding a good spot to hide just in case Belenestov’s men hadn’t completely abandoned the chase. She parked just several meters away from the river, the only area not covered in a stream of light from the scattered lamp posts.

“I’m a minute away, Felicity. Is it still all clear?” asked Oliver.

She felt her stomach drop when she heard a car approach. Her blood froze when she realised it was coming closer. In fact, it was going straight at her.

In horror, she turned the engine back on.

“Felicity? Talk to me.”

Before she got the chance to even lift her foot, the car behind her slammed right into her. The force send her forward and a distinctive thud of her head contacting the steering wheel could be heard. Her line of vision took the appearance of a kaleidoscope, streaks of light mixed with contours of the car dashboard.  As she began to regain her senses, the Sedan ploughed into her car once more.

The impact was so huge, it sent her car travelling right towards the water. She braked but before the machine could even begin to slow down, she once again got hit in the bumper of her car.The tires screeched in resistance

This time she could only stare as the car plunged right into the river.

________________________________________________

With a gasp she leaned back after she once again  lurched forward when the Toyota broke the surface of the water. With a stifled gasp she watched the car dash through the depths.Water began seeping into the car  slowly like wax off a candle. She wildly reached for her seatbelt.

“Oliver! OLIVER?! Diggle?” she screamed, desperately hoping the comms would continue to work.

Cold touched her feet, soaking through her shoes. Nobody was answering.

She pulled seatbelt out of it buckle.  Once free she turned towards the door. The water was coming in faster. She pressed down on the door handle. Nothing.  She grunted as she hit her side against the door. The water has risen to her thighs.  It was so unforgivably cold. She scrambled to the passenger seat, hoping that maybe she’d have more luck with the other door.

It didn’t work.

The water now reached her waist, making each movement slower than she’d have liked. She let out a cry when she realised that she would die right here, in a car, in Russia in some murky waters. Didn’t they say death through drowning was the worst? Her chest heaved as a sob tried to escape her chest.

The water was now stabbing her arms.

Her thoughts raced and she wondered if there was anything in the car that could possibly help her get out. Everything was covered in water, and it was too dark to see, only the bulb on the interior roof of the car still granted her some visibility.

She decided to try break the glass on the window. She couldn’t open them, but break, maybe. Her high heels on the center of the windows, made most sense and she did exactly that.  One kick, no effect. Second try, ditto. Third and a small crack appeared. She threw her leg up one more time and the glass broke.

Water gashed in and she took a deep breath. Now was her chance. Using all the strength she, she tried to swim out and push against the torrent. The current was too strong and it threatened to slam her back inside.

_She was going to die._

Something wrapped around her arm, but it was too dark too see what, and her ears were ringing and water was going up her nose. It tugged her arm, pulling forcefully. Through the dark spots clouding her vision she realised that somehow she managed to get out of the car.

____________________________________________

He got them out of the water and placed her on the concrete ground. She was still as a rag doll. Nearing his ear to her mouth and nose, he realised he couldn’t feel her breath. He clumsily placed his fingers against her neck to check for a pulse.

_There wasn’t any._

As through a fog, he remembered starting CPR.

“…22, 23, 24..” he counted the pushes. When he got to thirty, he pinched her nose and sealed his mouth of over hers. She was too cold. He blew two breaths, hard enough to see her chest rise.

She snapped her eyes open. He finally managed to take a breath of his own.  _She was going to be alright._

He reached out for her and helped her roll over as the vomited the lake water. He held her hair as he mumbled nonsensically that everything would be fine. Her chest rose as she greedily gasped for air. He rubbed his hand against her back trying to soothe her as she continued to deeply inhale the element she was deprived of for so long.

At one point he realised Diggle found them, and was wrapping them in blankets.

She was still white as death. His hand continued to rest on her back.

“Promise you’ll never scare me like that.” His voice came out broken.

“I’ll try.” she said quietly, her voice raspy. She leaned slowly onto him and he wrapped his hand around her more securely.

“You better girl,” Diggle chirped.


	8. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on the season's finale.

The rhythm of Felicity’s heart matched what it usually would be after a strenuous jog up a hill, yet she wasn’t running. In fact, she was standing and resembling a Weeping Angel, frozen mid movement. The stillest she has been the whole night.

_She didn’t even like her that much._

As she stood behind Oliver, her visioned narrowed to the anguish painted on Sara’s sister’s face. She watched as Laurel’s attempts of getting away came to match Slade’s  _big_  smirk, but they were futile. One of Slade’s Mirakuru strengthened men, had her in a grip of steel, and no human was about to bypass that, at least not without first having the drug in their system.

The rain pounded against the rooftop, distracting her from her inner turmoil for a moment. If the circumstances were different, she would have found the noise comforting yet now it just left her more on edge.

She heard Oliver’s pleas over her heavy breathing. Slade shook his head, repeating his earlier words.  She tried swallowing, but her mouth was too dry.

“I’ve made you  _a promise_ kid, and I intend on keeping it.”

 _Not again_. He just lost his mother and now in part two of the inferno Slade planned, he was to watch the woman he was still not done loving  _die_. No one deserved that.

What kind of a person would she be if she did nothing?

 Cold sweat broke out on the line of her forehead as she shuffled her feet forward. Oliver could be a phoenix that rose only so many times before he crumbled to ashes for good. Laurel killed by Slade’s hands would be the blow that wouldn’t just ruffle some feathers, Laurel’s death would be what would destroy them completely.

She clenched her fists so hard her blue coated nails broke through the skin on her palms.

Slade was too invested with his monologue to notice her edging closer but Oliver did.  He  _always_ did.

“Get back.” His words were a hiss, loud enough to attract Slade’s full attention.

“Miss Smoak. Anything to add?” he asked, feigning interest.

She gave him an unmerciful look. She hoped he could bathe in the loathing, coated in all the disgust it was supposed to convey.

“Take me instead,” she said with her loud voice looking at Laurel’s tear stricken face.

Slade’s laugh made her stomach churn. “I always thought I would like you.” He pretended to contemplate his options but she knew his mind was made up the moment her words left her mouth.

“Get. Back. Here.” Oliver’s threatening tone may have been enough to frighten street criminals to oblivion, but any fear it may have once evoked, disappeared a long time ago as she uncovered the real him.

She turned slowly around her axis to face the vigilante still aiming his bow at Slade.

“My life, my choice Oliver.” She always told him those words before the guilt he carried could expand and immerse in her actions. She couldn’t let him think this was somehow his fault.

“FE-LI-CI-TY.”

She stepped forward and the bow he was holding fell to the ground with a thud. She could hear him rushing towards her.

But for once he wasn’t fast enough. The coldness of the metal pressed against her throat, making Oliver stop in his tracks, a foot away from her.

He looked  _furious._

“Hmm, how brave. To offer you’re your own life for somebody else’s.” Slade caressed the blade against her skin .The nonchalant mask Oliver had been wearing, began to melt away.

“ Tell me kiddo, how is it that such brave people keep being drawn too you, like flies to spoilt meat, yet you remain the bloody bastard too you always were? Too scared to stand on your own two feet, always cowering behind people like  _her_?”  With a push, she fell to the ground.

“Did I make the wrong decision? Should Miss Smoak have been here right from the beginning?”

Slade’s voice became muffled and she concentrated on the man in front of her. Oliver’s eyes glistened with raw emotion. Desperation?  Not even a second later she saw his eyes grow wide and his mouth forming a big _O. Was he screaming?_

Unbeknownst to her, the blade was tearing through the air, coming straight at her. In the distance a growl of thunder shook the falling city.


	9. Peacock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on the finale, set after Felicity is left alone in the mansion.

**_Summary:_ ** **** **Takes place during the finale, right after Felicity is left alone in the Queens’ mansion**

As Felicity wandered through the empty halls she imagined the little Queens running, barely managing not to knock off the expensive pieces of art that she knew not so long ago lingered at every turn. Now most of the building was empty, sculptures and paintings packed away as each member of the family abandoned the house whether out of necessity, in search of a new start or as a result of revenge being executed with them as main targets that had one Queen removed from the equation completely. Oliver left first after a conflict with his mother and then stayed away because of the memories. She hardly faulted him for that.

She half heartedly examined the interior but with each moment that passed, the more she felt she wasn’t up for the task. She was…  _nervous_. Yet, her brain supplied that a mere nervous was an understatement of the year.

She was supposed to be the big guns in the game that was plotted to save what remained of the city.

When his fingers gently entwined with hers and their eyes locked together with intensity that could light up a whole room, she was breathless.

"He took the wrong woman."

She widened her eyes at that, wondering if the blow to the head wasn’t more serious than she assumed, leaving her with talking hallucinations as companions.

But no, she was lucid, otherwise she wouldn’t have felt the pain when her teeth bit into her cheek at the next revelation.

Oliver Queen had said almost inaudibly that he  _loved_  her.

Then he was straightening her fingers from the tight grip that she had his hands in and placed a cold object inside her grasp. The glass syringe, she guessed still looking at him, filled with the blue Mirakuru cure she herself put inside earlier.

 _"Do you understand?_ " His face was inches away from hers. It was a patchwork of broken skin, bruising and stubble.

His words dawned on her.

Everything suddenly fell to place. It was all a ruse. She weakly managed to nod her head.”Yes.”

She realised Oliver’s earlier words were said for pretences sake and…  _God._  She swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat.

They needed to turn back the clock and get Slade to be the man he was before Mirakuru, only he wouldn’t exactly be that. He could never be that but it would make him fightable like before.  _Defeatable_. They could work from there.

Oliver was still standing in front of her, his hands placed on the upper arms whilst his eyes were surveying her face. He was giving her a chance to back down, but she wasn’t going to take it.

The sheer look of determination she sent him, caused him to draw his lips in a thin line.

He turned to leave and then her hands shook.

She stood staring at the closing mansion doors with with a small weapon hid inside her hand. The plan was implausible. It was perfect, and something she could bet the other man wouldn’t see coming.

At the same time, she couldn’t help but think they would be playing with fire; one wrong move and they’d get burned. Just like Oliver’s words burned through her every fibre.

_I love you._

The wound by her hairline throbbed in pain bringing her out of the trance that had her standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes still on the auburn oak door.

* * *

 

She cringed at the shriek that just came out of her mouth. It resembled something taken out right from a cheap production of a horror film with an overused storyline.

"Felicity!?"

She swallowed, berating herself. Of course she had to make her fear known when the comms where on.

She forced a laugh that sounded fake even in her ears.

"Ugh, just some silly shadows," she mumbled. She couldn’t exactly answer Oliver directly, when tiny cameras where planted at almost every surface. It was hard trying not succumb to the overwhelming need to sweep the place, and throw each of the little spy devices away. It was  _so_  tempting, it actually _hurt._

When she didn’t think of stumping on the cameras with the heels of her boots, her mind would return back to Slade. And  _yes,_ she was wearing boots with two inch heels; at five foot four they were a necessity she couldn’t live without even when the city was being roamed by a super army of destruction spitting men.

When she thought of him tracing her movements, that is if the plan worked, her back would automatically stiffen. She was horrible at this; looking at ease in an empty mansion whilst waiting for her captors to arrive. She then had to count to ten, take several deep breaths, like Shirley the overwhelmingly flexible yoga instructor, taught her in a class to which she only managed to stick to for three weeks.

All that in an attempt to look relatively calm.

Her chest rose as she inhaled. She let the air leave through her nose. And again.

Sitting down in the armchair in the Queen’s private library, she stifled a gasp. She didn’t think it was working; almost jumping out of her skin, at a shadow of a moth no less, was probably a good indication. She knew it was a mistake to give up on yoga; instead of biting her lip she could be doing a feathered peacock pose.

Oliver’s voice filled her ear. “Felicity. You can still leave.”

She ignored him.

Slade was as much her enemy as he was his. The moment he took Thea she came to hate him. When he took Roy, she had sworn to do whatever it took to bring him down. _And_ he did destroy the lair with  _her_ computers, or his men whom he created did.

Regardless, she wasn’t about to back down now.She couldn’t do that yoga pose but she could be like a _peacock,_ who eats poisonous snakes without getting harmed.

She was doing this as much for herself as Oliver and all her friends.

Felicity Meghan Smoak was going to be hell of a surprise to the man terrorizing the city, of that she was sure, even if every now and then she would chew on her lip.

She smiled.

A bit of fire, loopy enemies and dermis and she was beginning to sound like Oliver. Talking about herself in third person. She sighed

Diggle wouldn’t be amused.

She needed this to be finally over and catch up on her sleep.

Forty two minutes later her tablet beeped alerting her that the thermostatic imaging found two men trod their way towards the entry and her heart dangerously bounced in her chest.

_This was it._

Neither of them were Slade, but two rather large individuals with faces hid by masks with bulging muscles, soon lifting her off the ground. When one of them tried throwing her against his shoulder, she instinctively threw her elbow onto the man’s face, a move Diggle was kind to teach her, which was of course not at all thought out. No attack from her side could even begin to leave a mark on a moving, breathing wall of concrete, a mistake that left her wondering if she fractured her elbow.

Next thing she knew, she was hit in the head; she guessed the Slade’s soldier hardly liked flying elbows nudging his chin. It left her vision blurring which then tilted upside down when he once again threw her body on top of his shoulder, like she weighed nothing. That was the last thing she registered just before she slipped into a dark slumber.

* * *

 

The Arrow stood before her whilst she was pressed against Slade, acting as a human shield of sorts with a shiny metal blade far too close to her throat. Her eyes were darting from the weapon to Oliver, back and forth.

_Was it safe to assume she would be coming out of this alive?_

"…to see my enemy so distracted, he doesn’t see the real danger is right in front of him."

The real danger, held in a twelve centimetre syringe that she clumsily grabbed from the inside of her pocket. She had to use her left hand as the right remained too tender to even move let alone master enough force to get the needle inside the hard muscles of her assailant.

Oliver send her a reassuring look and she knew now was the time. She threw her hand with the cure into Slade’s body, puncturing the skin, sending the liquid into his bloodstream. She shuffled away, somehow managing not to trip on her feet.

She heard Oliver, over Slade’s grunts, shout to Sara to get her and Laurel away.

Everything after that happened quickly. Oliver defeated the man with the eyepatch without killing him and soon had her and Diggle flying with him back to Lian Lu. Slade was put away in Argus’s prison, where he was left screaming that he always kept his promises.  _Not this time_  she thought wryly.

When Diggle left her and Oliver alone on the stony beach, his earlier words rang in her head, loud and clear.

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

"You did it." she said following Diggle’s movements.

"I had help." His tone carrying a note of something she wasn’t familiar which caused her to turn around.

"Yeah." She said facing him, her tone chirpier than usual. She had to hear him say it, so she carried on with her chatter. It was easier now, his eyes somehow managing to give her the confidence.

"It was really smart, the way you outfoxed him. Talk about unthinkable. You and me I mean."

The look in his eyes back then seemed so clear and so sincere that he had her fooled. For one terrifying second she let herself imagine the unthinkable and she needed to hear a definitive no, so there was no room for her brain to question whether there were crumbs of truth present in his words.

So she could move on.

"When you told me you loved me-" she closed her eyes, and tugged her glasses. "You had me fooled. For a second-". He was looking at her, squinting his eyes at the sun, silent as a grave.

She let out a deep breath.

"-maybe you might have meant it-" She said lightly shaking her head, unconsciously letting him know that she knew that wasn’t the truth. He said nothing and her lips curled downwards. "-what you said."

She wanted Diggle to come back so the conversation could be over.

His lips formed a smile.

"You really sold it." she carried on, despite wishing that her mouth would seal shut, yet her brain wasn’t having it.

His smile stretched before he answered. “We both did it.” His adam’s apple twitched and a part of her wanted to scream. That was not the ‘no’ she was looking for and neither was it validating the “I love you.”

Instead she too offered him a smile, a timid, tiny smile but a smile nevertheless.

"Lets go home." Slowly he nodded his head, moving past her. She watched the battered man walk towards Diggle and wondered how she got herself into this; a world where everything was so unclear and uncertain, where foes threatened them on regular basis when once her life was so simple.

Yet she had a feeling, if given the option there wouldn’t be much she would change.

* * *

 

Back in the plane, she placed her head back against the headrest in the hope that her galloping thoughts would finally succumb to dreams of something other than a crazy, justice seeking, blade wielding eyepatched man.

She has had enough of Slade.

For five minutes she managed to stay still before her eyelids darted open again.

The last memory of falling asleep in her sky blue duvet was untraceable, almost as if it had happened in another lifetime.

And maybe it has. It felt different now.

_Sky blue duvet._

That just reminded that they were about fly above an ocean. No wonder she couldn’t keep her eyes closed. Her subconsciousness remembered and now that it was fully in her thoughts, she was certain she wouldn’t be sleeping for another fifteen hours. At least.

"-no worries Diggle."

Oliver’s voice edged closer. She was too exhausted for conversations and from the looks of it so is he. He lowered himself onto the seat next to her and they ended up sitting in silence, side by side.

At first she feared it may be awkward with  _the words_  still lingering between them like flashy neon lights, but it turned out to be nothing but comfortable.

Weirdly enough, now she seemed to be even more aware of him. His smell, how he breathed.. Two hours later, she ended up leaning in on his shoulder and he responded by placing his arm around her.

His warm hand rubbed comforting circles against her skin, lulling her to sleep, all oceans and an Australian man long forgotten. Sleep quickly embraced the man next to her as well.

They were in sync.

Diggle and Lyla found them a few hours later; Felicity’s head in the middle of Oliver’s chest and his on top of hers.


	10. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Felicity is late to work. Set somewhere in the middle of season two.

Running up the staircase, Oliver’s mind kept conjuring up scenarios of all the things that could have happened since he last saw her; none of them good. His patience running thin, he gave up on using a lift after it failed to show up within seconds of pressing the up button in the call box. He opted for relying on the speed of his own legs instead, although it didn’t help that she had to live on the eighth floor.

It was 9.48 am. After not finding her at Queen Consolidated by 9.03, when everyday she was there at least by eight, he was worried. Several phone calls later of which none were picked up, he wanted to rush to his motorcycle and drive to her place, but Diggle stopped him in his tracks.

“Mind telling me what’s happening?” he inquired.

“Just going to check on Felicity, she’s still not here.”

“I don’t know man, maybe she just slept in. Just give her another twenty minutes, before you go rushing off.”

“Diggle, she’s never late,” he said, the fingers on his left hand curling inwards as if he was pulling the string of his bow.

“There always has to be the first time, eh?”

Although he very much did not feel like waiting, he listened to Diggle’s advice. _Almost._ He gave her fifteen minutes and he was pretty sure that in the meantime, he acquired at least one grey hair.

Once by her door, he knocked. No response. He fished out his spare key, and hurriedly plunged it forward, almost missing the lock.

Stepping inside, he became even more concerned when she didn’t come asking what he was doing in her apartment. His eyes swept the place for any threats or signs of foul play, noticing a broken vase. His heart rate sped up. As he opened his mouth to shout out her name, the bathroom door burst open, revealing a naked Felicity with a towel wrapped around her body.

‘Woah! Oliver?!’ She shrieked, her right hand flew over her heart and her back hit the wall.  “What the heck are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you,” he rasped, relief flooding his voice.

“Well next time, just make a bit more noise so I know you’re inside - you scared me half to death-“

Half listening, he took in the sight of the women in front of him. She looked beautiful.  Her hair wet, already attempting to bounce back into a mass of curls, reached past her shoulders. Realising his thoughts were moving into a dangerous territory, he quickly shifted his gaze back to her face.

‘’-oh gosh, what time is it? I think I forgot to set my alarm last night, in fact I don’t even know where my phone disappeared. Oli-’

“Felicity, it’s only- “ He glanced at his watch. “five to ten”.

“ _Only?”_  She parroted, panic flooding her face. ‘I’ve never been this late. Not to QC, not to college, not even when I go to the lair and god knows I could be because nobody else ever bothers to be there on time,” she rumbled, sending him a glare at the last part.

 “I’m sure your boss will be alright if you take the morning off,” he said with a glint of humour in his eyes, choosing to ignore the remark about him being late.

 As he watched her grab a hairdryer, he realised how tired she looked with dark shadows cloaking the skin beneath her eyes.

 His eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you feeling okay?” He walked up to her and tilted her chin up to see her face. She sent him a questioning glance and he let his hand drop, missing the warmth that radiated underneath his palm. Far too much, he realised somewhat annoyed.

 “I’m good - just a pounding headache that some paracetamol should soon sort out’, she said lightly, moving out of his reach. He didn’t know why the action upset him.

“You can take the day off Felicity,” he stated simply. She pressed her lips together.

“There’s no need, I still have to-“

“Felicity.”

“Oliver,” she replied with the same conviction. “Just give me fifteen minutes to get dressed. Oh and in the meantime, you can make me a cup of strong coffee. And I will love you forever.”

Noticing what she just said, she stumbled, “I mean not like that, you know not in _that_ way, not love _love_.” She mumbled, her skin growing somewhat pink.

He decided he would help her out not bothering to hide the smirk as he did so. “Felicity, I know.”

“Great. Good. I’m just going to-“ she said, her hand pointing at the bedroom door before turning and heading that way. He smiled, unable to glance away from her retreating form, once again thinking how beautiful she looked. The door swiftly clicked shut.

He then eyed up her coffee maker. Hopefully it would be easier to operate than it looked.

“And remember to put in two sugars!” she shouted behind the closed door.

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Carrying the two mugs to the coffee table, he noticed something on the floor, but his attention soon wavered as Felicity made her out of the bedroom.

“You look nice” he winked as the words left his mouth.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I see you managed to use my coffee maker. See, you’re not totally helpless with machinery” she joked, picking up her Tardis mug.

“It wasn’t too bad - although it did make some gurgling noises, so maybe you should have a look”, he said sheepishly.

His eyes then travelled down to the item he noticed earlier, by the foot of the couch. A red dress.

“Did you go out last night?” his eyes gleamed with amusement. “It would definitely explain the headache”, he teased as he reached down for the dress. She stuck out her tongue.  As he hoisted it up, the smile that had crept up his face, died off. Underneath the outfit, lay a simple black tie. A male black tie, the type he wore when going out to more formal parties.

“Ughff”, an unrecognisable sound escaped her mouth. “I had a feeling he forgot something”.

“He?” Images of some man she met at a bar, caressing her naked skin left him nauseous.

“Michael, or was it Mac” she wondered out loud. Seeing the stern look he sent her, she got up. “Hey, don’t judge, it’s not like you remember everybody’s name with whom you went to bed with”, she glared, before continuing, “Jess and I had too many shots, I admit, and maybe I don’t remember much of the night, but seriously you’re in no position to give me that look.”

“What look?” he said, also getting up. The two faced each other, few inches in between them.

If he was upset earlier, now he was distraught. The worst thing was he didn’t know why he was feeling like that especially since he had no right to. He was with Sara. Clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, he moved away.

“I found some painkillers, I’ve put them by the fruit bowl,” he said, changing the subject, not knowing what else to say.

“Oliver.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I don’t get it.”

“What” he replied tiredly but also somewhat on edge.

“Why you’re acting like _this,”_ her hands flew in the air, illustrating her confusion.

“Like?”

She seemed irritated by his monosyllabic responses, but he couldn’t help it.

“Like you’re jealous” she said using her ‘loud voice’. She then paused, her eyebrows plunging into a frown.

“Which I know, you’re not, but at the very mention of my one-night stand, your whole demeanour changed Oliver! If I didn’t know any better, I would even say you look like you want to give some kind of a lecture, because that, would be very hypocritical” she said, unblinking.

She was right. He wasn’t acting fair.

He moved his hand to brush off the piece of hair that escaped her ponytail, and let his fingers fall to her neck then her shoulder, noticing how she leaned in into his touch.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” he said quietly.

He wasn’t sure if it was scepticism that was painted on Felicity’s face.

“Come on, your coffee will get cold,” he muttered.

As he stepped back, a loud “Stop,” reached his ears. He glanced at her questioningly, and her finger directed him to bits of porcelain, he nearly stepped on.  

A broken vase.

He didn’t want to think of how that came about, but his mind had other ideas.

“Careful, you’ll hurt yourself.”

 Yet when he made no indication that he was going to move, she reached out to his hand, pulling him towards her. Few moments of silence passed.

“Oliver, thank you for coming here to see if I was alright, I appreciate it.’ she said, squeezing his hand. He smiled tightly. “Anytime, Felicity.”


	11. The Archer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phrase I read, triggered a thought which triggered another. I blame free association for this entirely.
> 
> Or when Felicity takes matters into her own hands, sometime after the date which didn’t quite work out. Set in season three.

“What are you thinking about?” Oliver asked, casting a sideways look at his blonde partner, laying on a grassy field next to him at two in the morning.

She didn’t answer straight away. 

“Kissing you.”

His eyebrows skyrocketed and he began to choke on the water he  swallowed after asking the question. The statement was so honest, unshadowed about what they should and shouldn’t do, so much in fact that he had almost trouble remembering the list of reasons why doing so was practically forbidden, until the image of her bloodied, on their  _date_  like a theatre curtain, plunged down in front of his eyes. He tossed the water bottle in his hand to the side.

“Felicity look, I-”

The words tumbling out of his mouth came to a sudden stop, and his gaze travelled down despite it being too dark to see anything. Her beringed hand, accessorized for the mission few hours earlier, slowly, blindly found his.

“See that teapot over there?” She asked, lifting their intertwined hands towards the sky, whilst shuffling closer, to be in the same line of vision as him.

“Right there!”

The stars above them seemed to twinkle, as if appreciating the enthusiasm they have managed to elicit in Felicity.

“ _I think so?_ ” he said tentatively.  

“It’s the Sagittarius constellation.”

“Oh.” His chest rose, as he took a deep breath. “Latin for the archer,” he heard himself say.

He could almost feel her smile.

“It’s supposed to represent the centaur Chiron. The half horse, half man who was said to have had a great heart. He wasn’t the beast everyone came to expect from centurions. In fact, apart from his many talents such as archery, he came to mentor the likes of Hercules and Achilles and Jason.” Felicity listed.

As much as he was impressed with her knowledge of mythology, he wondered  where she was going with this; whether the Chiron was an allusion to himself in some bizarre sense, sans the obvious bow and a quiver of arrows.

“He tried to be so good, Oliver, that one day it came to bite him back. Hercules wounded Chiron with a poisoned arrow.”

Frowning, he felt  Felicity move her thumb along his hand that was still holding hers, making him realize that they were far too close. He promised himself, he would move, putting a respectable distance between them, in _just_  a moment. He needed one more minute with her by his side before letting his sense of obligation and rationality take the dominant stance.

“Oliver you try to be so good, that you think by pushing me away, you’re protecting me. But you’re  _not._ And you know what else? You’re not protecting yourself either.” She pushed herself to the side, so that she was facing him completely. He swallowed. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

“By trying to be so righteous in the choices you make, by doing this- this thing you perceive as the best for everyone around, but putting yourself at the sideline, you’re just stopping yourself from being happy.”

“No Felicity, by knowing you’re safe because you’re not with me - that’s the only way I can be content.”

He heard her sigh loudly before plopping down to her back.

“Actually, you’re wrong.”

He let out a long, deep breath, trying to figure out what argument she would use now, to try shake his ground.

“When I was eleven one of my mother’s more irascible boyfriends almost managed to kill me by throwing me out of the house - it was December, and far too cold.” Taking a steadying breath, she continued, “When I was in college, I had a stalker - it took months to get back to normal after he was put in jail for drug dealing. When I started working in QS, one night on my way home, I had to stop at a convenience store- curdled milk and mouldy lasagne did not sound appetizing for dinner that night - so yeah I had to get some groceries, when an armed robber came in. Things escalated pretty quickly and he held a gun to my head. If the police hadn’t arrived when they did, he would have shot me.”

His jaw hurt from clenching it more at each of the revelations. “God, I’m  _so_  sorry.”  His hand travelled to her face, to brush her cheek.

“I didn’t say this, so you’d feel sorry for me Oliver.” His hand stilled against her skin. “What I’m trying to say is that for all you know, I could be hit by a bus tomorrow. By being _good_  through pushing me away, it will still hurt if the said bus swipes me off my feet because you weren’t there to remind me pay attention to the road” He nearly shook his head. Trust Felicity to use dark humour to illustrate a point.

“Danger is around us, but that’s just life. You haven’t increased my odds of coming face to face with it. It’s always been there. But with you around, I don’t feel I have to look over my shoulder. I just feel safe. I know you will not be always be there to make it alright, but when you are, I feel safe. And that’s  _enough._ ”

Turning back to face him, she whispered “I want you around, Oliver.”  Her head drew lower to his, and when her lips almost shyly at first, brushed his, he didn’t pull away. She tasted like the honeycomb lipbalm she used, and coffee to which she was hooked for the past few days. So rather, than ignoring all what she said, and turning the other way, he took the time to learn how good her lips felt against his, to rummage his tongue against the scar which she told him she gained when her wisdom teeth had been removed.

He flipped them over so now she was laying beneath him, and kissed her harder.

When they pulled away to catch their breaths, he moved his head to her ear, and whispered “In two months, you’ll be complaining about me having completely infiltrated your life, Felicity.”

Rather than reassuring him that would not be the case, she looked excited. Excited and delighted. “Two months - I see you’re planning this to be a long term occurrence,” she said signalling to kiss by planting one on his jaw.

“I tried not to, but  _somebody_  just wouldn’t have it.”

“That somebody must be very wise,” Felicity mumbled.

“Or just very stubborn.” He said, kissing her again before she could answer, pushing the image of her in her red dress, on the cold medical table to the back of his mind.

 


End file.
